


Explained with Gunpowder

by softshocker



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Anal; eating out; handjobs; nipple play... the usual but all at once, Bratting, Cock Warming, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Exhibitionism, Gunplay, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Organized Crime, Punishment, Sleepy Cuddles, This is violent but ends fluffy, cock stepping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshocker/pseuds/softshocker
Summary: Yuchan is determined to rile everyone up until they break him on the negotiation table, just like they have promised him they would, if he were to misbehave in front of others. He gets exactly what he wanted, and far more than he had bargained for.
Relationships: Kang Yuchan | Chan/Everyone
Comments: 15
Kudos: 88





	Explained with Gunpowder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elutherya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elutherya/gifts).



> Sometimes you get commissions that are exactly what you want to write. A big thanks to Rene for giving me this project to destroy them and finally contribute to the A.C.E tag. 
> 
> **Warnings:** For the sake of everything good, please pay attention to the tags. Spoilers follow, but Yuchan is held at gunpoint with a whole loaded gun. I don't know anything about guns and I'm sure it will show, but I do know you shouldn't do that in real life, so here's your obligatory don't-try-this-at-home disclaimer.

Yuchan drums his fingers on the table.

The motion and rhythm is soothing, not unfamiliar to anyone. Regular guests of the small room know all about the bored young man who never seems to want to be present for the meetings. They know he’s there for a reason, of course - he has to be doing _something_ if he’s trusted to be constantly there - but so far few of them have ever managed to figure out what, besides hacking work when he’s asked to make an emergency operation. 

Making little noises isn’t anything extraordinary, but Yuchan has a plan, today. 

Oh Gwangsuk keeps glaring at his hands. It’s obvious enough that even the rest have to notice. Whenever Yuchan switches up the rhythm, his jaw clenches in distaste. 

Lee Euijin, instead, stops mid-sentence. It’s barely an instant of hesitation before he goes back to detailing their requests for the new territory trade, but it’s enough for Donghun sitting opposite Yuchan at their end of the table, to suck in a sharp breath. 

_Good._

Yuchan takes that as his cue to yawn, long and obnoxious, stretching his arms and legs as far as they’ll go, before he hooks his feet over the table. Like this, he can’t drum anymore, so he fishes in his pocket for a piece of chewing gum and pops it into his mouth, maintaining eye contact with Sehyoon beside him the whole time. 

Lee Euijin is also lying. They have no intention of giving up all of those districts. He’s a good liar, but not good enough to fool Yuchan. The bubble Yuchan blows bursts with a loud _pop_ , sticking all over his face. He picks it up with his tongue and eats it again so he can chew loudly. 

“Your… intern is very loud, today,” Lee Euijin comments, interrupting the sentence he was on. Donghun laughs, in all response, warm and inviting. Liar. Yuchan doesn’t have to look at him to know his eyes are moon crescents and they’re gleaming with danger.

“He’s bored. You should know not to mind him, by now,” he explains, waving the matter away with a dismissive hand motion. “I’m not quite sure Guro is as great of an offer as you’re trying to make it sound.”

“I assure you, the activity in that district is remarkable,” Euijin insists. A lie, but Yuchan is too annoyed to pay it too much mind. Donghun will not be able to ignore him for long. He’s played this game before, and he’s never brought it this far. They promised him he’d regret it.

He really, _really_ wants to see them make good on that promise. 

He scoots his chair over, closer to them, holding back a smile at the way Gwangsuk and Byeongkwan both wince at the noise of it scraping against the tiled floor. He knows he’s about to head into dangerous territory - if earlier they could just pass off his behavior as a rude IT guy, now there will be no excuses. Still, he only shivers in anticipation as he reaches for Sehyoon’s arm and squeezes once. 

There’s no reaction that the others can see, but Yuchan can feel the muscles tense and loosen under his fingers. None of his hyungs can lie to him. It’s his job to know when people are lying, and Yuchan is good at his job. 

He squeezes the hard muscle again, admiring the way Sehyoon’s arm shifts even under his shirt. Yuchan knows he’s struggling to keep his composure; he also knows Sehyoon will not embarrass himself in front of the duo and risk Junhee’s wrath - or worse, Donghun’s. 

He scoots closer yet with his chair, stretching a leg past Sehyoon and into Byeongkwan’s lap. He sees the minute hitch in the man’s breathing, the twitch of his thighs, but the other doesn’t make a move to kick him off, so Yuchan presses down with his heel, seemingly safe under the cover of the table.

Byeongkwan turns to look at him. 

It’s an instant, but it’s the second time they acknowledge him directly. Yuchan’s heart races in his chest, blood chilling for the briefest moment. He’s close, he’s _so_ close, they’re warning him. They’re being kind. 

He’s so close to getting them to leave all manners behind and hurt him until he cries. 

His chair falls to the floor as he stands up. If anyone is looking at him, he wouldn’t be able to tell; he’s staring straight ahead, eyes burning holes into the back of Junhee’s head. It’s hot all around him, even though Yuchan knows the A/C is turned on. He approaches, quickly, but the blood pumping in his ears and deafening him to the conversation slows down time itself, makes the few steps to Junhee’s seat seem to last an eternity. 

Stopping behind their leader, he pauses long enough to meet the two strangers’ gazes for a split-second before he throws his arms around Junhee’s neck and presses his nose to it. He inhales the elder’s familiar scent, nuzzles the spot; he smells like danger, like he only does when they’re in these meetings, his usual cologne mixing with the scent of skin and sweat underneath. For a moment, Yuchan forgets he’s here to instigate them, and almost considers spending the rest of the negotiation lost in Junhee’s familiar warmth. 

It’s Donghun’s voice that pulls him out, laughing at something the duo says, patronizing. Yuchan knows him, knows this laughter, mean, derogatory. Something in his gut jumps with the need to be on the receiving end of that laughter, to be made to feel small and powerless, reminded that no matter how smart he is, he’s their little plaything and nothing more, and they could end him in a heartbeat. 

He unwraps his arms from Junhee, walking the step towards Donghun with purpose. 

He’s going to break them. 

Kang Yuchan is an informant, and there is no one in this world he knows better than the four men by his side right now. 

He rests his fingers on Donghun’s shoulder slowly, to give him plenty of time to react. The elder doesn’t, of course, but that’s not a problem; Yuchan expected as much. He moves closer, instead, nuzzling the soft, clean cotton of his shirt before sinking his teeth into his shoulder. He can feel the air change around him, knows he’s there, he just has to do _something_ to break the tension that has been stretched so thin. 

He moves to pull on Donghun’s hair. Nothing they could say would excuse this, Yuchan acting like a petulant child in need of attention. 

The moment his fingers wrap around the carefully combed brown locks, Donghun makes eye contact with him again, and Yuchan _knows_ he’s won. 

The ecstatic shock of success quickly gives way to the weight of frozen dread that falls from his throat to his feet, a second before Donghun’s eyes move to Junhee. For a moment, he briefly gets to hope they won’t do anything, because reacting to him being a brat would just make them look bad in front of their guests.

Everything happens too quickly for Yuchan to stop, even if he’d wanted to. 

Donghun nods. Junhee sighs. Junhee stands up, grabs the back of Yuchan’s collar, and slams him face-first onto the table. 

Yuchan screams, the pain in his cheek sharp, bruising. He can barely gasp for air before he’s pulled back up by his hair, and his face is slammed into the table again, pressed until he’s gasping for breath and drooling all over the glass. 

“Ah… just a second, if you will,” Junhee says behind him, with the kind of voice that Yuchan knows is accompanied by a wide grin that can barely pass as formal. “Now what do I do with this one, hmm?”

Yuchan squirms in place, trying to free himself from the iron grip of Junhee’s fingers. Junhee pulls him up again, granting him a second of reprieve before he kicks the back of his knees and laughs when Yuchan obediently kneels, giggles more as he twists the younger by his hair until he’s facing him. 

“You did it now, brat,” he hisses, low, only for Yuchan to hear, and lets go of his hair. Yuchan doesn’t dare move, not to run away, not even to straighten his hair or try to relieve the throbbing pain in his scalp. He would beg for mercy, but he knows it would be useless, so he keeps quiet and waits as Junhee thinks. 

It feels like an eternity. He knows it can’t be too long, because Euijin and Gwangsuk are waiting - and fuck, they’re watching this all, they’re watching Yuchan be humiliated like a misbehaving brat, and there’s something much too nice swirling in his belly at the thought. Just when it feels like they’ll leave him there to wait until he begs for his own punishment, Junhee smiles, saccharine and fake, and caresses Yuchan’s cheek. 

“I’ll see to you properly later, just need to help you keep still for now,” he decides, and before Yuchan can voice his confusion and get himself into further trouble, Junhee pulls out his gun. 

Yuchan wants to laugh. 

He doesn’t know why, whether it’s incredulousness or primal fear, but he wants to laugh. He doesn’t, though, because he’s already in trouble, because Junhee is pointing a gun at him, because the gun is still loaded. 

But Junhee won’t take the bullets off. Not when he’s in a meeting like this and anything could go wrong. Yuchan knows this much. He could wager his life on that gun remaining loaded, and his dignity on Junhee’s refusal to keep a deadly instrument pointed in Yuchan’s general direction. 

Yuchan knows. He’s asked too many times. 

The _click_ of the magazine being detached is enough to make his throat knot in dread. It’s full, of course, and Junhee makes a show of taking out a single round and examining it before he smiles. 

He puts the bullet back and slams the magazine shut in front of Yuchan’s face.

“You’re just desperate to be filled, hm? Gotta give the hole something to be busy with,” Junhee scoffs, grin growing wider with every second he looks at Yuchan. Yuchan doesn’t want to look scared, doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of breaking so soon, but he can see his own hands trembling, frozen in mid-air where he still hasn’t had the courage to move them from, and the moment Junhee taps his cheek twice, he whimpers. 

He opens his mouth. He’s already tested them so much, he can’t disobey now, too. Junhee pushes the barrel past his lips, knocking against his teeth none too carefully, and the mixed rush of fear and satisfaction at his victory are enough to make Yuchan’s vision go dizzy for a second. 

The gun is heavy on his tongue, heavy and so cold, even though it’s been near Junhee’s body all this time. It tastes of acid metal, of used gunpowder; Yuchan wants to gag around it and push it out, wants to pull back until his heartbeat calms down and his life can’t be ended with a single pull of the trigger 

“My apologies for the distraction,” Junhee announces, pulling his chair closer so he can sit with Yuchan kneeling between his legs. He kicks his feet in the air for a few seconds, almost pondering, then presses the tip of his shoe on Yuchan’s groin. It’s not enough to hurt, but the weight there, combined with the feeling of the gun in the mouth, is enough to redirect all the blood flow right below Junhee’s foot. Yuchan’s hands finally move in a reflex to try and shield himself, but he stops himself just before he gets into more trouble, forcing his arms to lay limp in his lap instead.

Junhee stares him down, eyes full of contempt, almost considering. In the end, he bends down, close to Yuchan’s ear.

“If you need out, tap my leg twice,” he whispers, then straightens back up to slouch in his seat without waiting for an acknowledgement. 

“Don’t take so long, next time,” Donghun reprimands. Yuchan steals a glance in his direction, but it’s a mistake, because Donghun just looks bored, like Yuchan doesn’t deserve his attention even when he’s spread open and at their mercy like this, and something in Yuchan breaks a little. “Euijin, you were saying?”

On the other side of the table, Euijin coughs. There’s the noise of a chair being fixed, clothes rustling, but Yuchan can’t look at them, he can’t know what they’re thinking of him or of the trade, and the full situation he’s gotten himself in dawns on him slowly. 

Junhee grinds down with shoe, once, twice- Yuchan’s hips jump up of their own accord, and the gun in his mouth moves just a few millimeters, just enough for Yuchan to be reminded of the fact that a twitch of Junhee’s finger could kill him right there and then. 

He has to stay still. 

He has to stay still, but all his efforts are useless when he’s in this position. Junhee knows it; they all know him. The sole of the shoe keeps grinding down on him, pressing deliciously just where Yuchan is desperate for it, the texture of his clothes against his dick too rough but still so fucking good. 

Yuchan makes a small, half-aborted thrust, heart thumping in his chest. 

No one says anything. Of course no one does. 

He starts slowly, trying to move as little as possible, just to get any sort of friction, humping Junhee’s dress shoe with tiny movements of his hips. They can’t be mad at him. They know him. He’s a dumb whore. They can’t blame him. 

If he moans, the barrel in his mouth muffles it, the sound lost on quickly-warming metal. Yuchan is glad, hopes Junhee won’t notice, or any of them; Junhee does notice, because he taps the tip of his shoe against Yuchan’s groin twice, teasing. He grinds his heel down, harsh and cruel, and Yuchan screams loud enough for the sound to carry through the metal and over his stretched lips as he starts thrusting desperately. 

Junhee knows what he’s doing, he’s teasing him on purpose; he knows Yuchan is just their stupid hole and can only think about being fucked dumb. They all know it, they were the ones who taught him, so this has to be his punishment. They want him to get off on Junhee’s leg. They’ll make him come in his pants like a teenager and sit in his own filth until the meeting is over.

He’s still humping the sole of Junhee’s shoe, now beyond any effort to disguise his actions, when he raises his eyes; he doesn’t know what he’s seeking, whether comfort or approval, but he barely has time to recognize the disdain in their leader’s gaze before Junhee raises his foot and kicks Yuchan’s dick with his full strength. 

The strangled sound that comes out of him is not a moan, nor a scream, but Yuchan can’t care enough. He doubles over, instinctively, to curl up and protect himself before Junhee kicks him again, but the action makes the gun knock against his teeth and gums. The metallic tang of blood immediately fills his mouth, and he whines over the sharp and dull pain mixing in his mouth and groin. 

Someone laughs from the other side of the table. 

Donghun laughs, too. It’s a small chuckle, in response to whoever is mocking Yuchan, warm, familiar, cruel, the way he only laughs at Yuchan when he proves he’s just the slut they taught him he is. 

He feels the tears rush to his eyes before he can stop them, and he can do nothing but sit and let them spill until they’re drawing hot, wet trails down his cheeks. The tip of Junhee’s shoe pokes at his cock again just as his vision goes too blurry to see; Yuchan chokes on a small sob, uses everything he has to sit as still as possible as the elder starts toying with him all over again, phantom-light touches giving way to pressure hard enough that Yuchan moans, in spite of all his efforts to be quiet. 

It’s not much longer until he feels the mess of fluids on his face starts to dry. He’s acutely aware of the tears staining his skin, the snot and blood everywhere around his mouth, sticking and pulling at the skin, the drool seeping out of where the gun stretches his lower lip. He tries to flick out his tongue, so he can clean some of the blood dripping from where his lips are bruised and split open, but the barrel of the gun forces the muscle down, and every time Yuchan tries to push past it, he just drools more and more, until he feels his own spit drizzle down his chin and onto his lap. 

He doesn’t dare move his hands to wipe it away, much less his eyes to look at Junhee again, but he knows he’s gotten his shoes dirty when he feels the rough sole lift, the only moment of reprieve and warning he gets before Junhee stomps again.

Yuchan cries out, chokes on the sound. Blood and tears and drool start to flow again, but he manages to stay still so the gun won’t bruise him any further. Junhee raises his foot, only to kick down with the heel, again, and again, and again still. Every time, Yuchan’s hips twitch in a futile attempt to move away, and every time, Junhee kicks back harder. Someone on the other side of the table chuckles again, and the tone of the conversation changes just for a moment, but Yuchan can’t keep up with the voices, anymore. 

He lets himself drift away, to somewhere fuzzy and distant. He can’t do anything about the pain, so he focuses on staying still instead, until Junhee is satisfied with him, or takes mercy, or gets bored; he stops, and that’s what matters. Eventually, the tears stop too, and the mess on his face dries again, somehow comforting in how disgusting it feels, until his chest is empty and the only movement they can reprimand him for are the shakes of sniffles he can’t contain. His jaw aches enough that it feels like he’ll never be able to close it again, but every time he tries to shift and alleviate the pain, Junhee’s index taps the grip, and he stills again, trying to breathe through his nose to calm down his racing heartbeat. 

These meetings have no real planned timespan. They could last a few minutes, or entire hours; it certainly feels like the latter as Yuchan waits for something, anything to happen. They don’t tease him anymore; they don’t even look at him. He can’t bring himself to move to check, but he knows as much, doesn’t feel the cold eyes on his back anymore. Even Junhee ignores him, for the most, the occasional movement of the gun whenever he shifts in his seat acnting as the only reminder of his presence. When he gets bored, sometimes, he taps his foot on Yuchan’s dick again, rubs the length of it just to see how hard he is; Yuchan himself barely realizes. 

He’s good. He sits still, doesn’t complain when he feels Junhee play with his cock, doesn’t ask for attention, doesn’t even make a sound to distract them from their talks. He can’t focus on his job of collecting information, but he’s being so, _so_ good, has even stopped crying. He got himself in this situation, and he’ll be punished for it, but they have to see how well he’s taking his punishment, how he’s behaving himself for them. 

He only realizes the meeting is over when he hears chairs scrape against the floor in uncoordinated unison, footsteps and voices going all around him. He doesn’t move, because Junhee hasn’t moved yet, and is still holding him at gunpoint; like this, whatever Euijin and Gwangsuk couldn’t see before, they certainly can now. 

“Thank you for everything. You’ll hear from us soon, then,” he hears Donghun say, a step closer now. 

“That better be actually soon,” Gwangsuk tsks. “Is he going to stay like that much longer?” 

Yuchan imperceptibly straightens his back. He lowers his eyes, curls his hands into obedient fists. It’s almost instinctive; they’re looking at him, and he’ll be good. He may look disgusting, but he’s his hyungs’ toy, and he will do them honor when they show him off. 

He can’t see Donghun, but he’s sure of the way he’s raising his eyebrows in consideration before he gives his curt, courteous laugh. 

“That’s for Junhee to decide. We’ll see to him as soon as you leave. Apologies for the scene.”

“Are you fucking with me? That was the most fun I’ve had in one of these meetings in a long while,” the voice that belongs to Lee Euijin declares, just as his torn jeans come into Yuchan’s field of vision. His arms move closer, and for a terrifying moment, Yuchan is convinced he’ll try to touch him and all hell will break loose, but the finger that’s approaching stops right before it touches his nose. 

“He’s messy,” Euijin comments. “You have a very pretty boy.”

“Isn’t he lovely?” Junhee asks, shifting in his seat so Euijin can come closer. The gun knocks against Yuchan’s teeth, unkind, and Yuchan can do little but comply with how his head is maneuvered side to side, so Junhee can show him off. He barely realizes that he’s tearing up again, but the little gasp Euijin lets out when he sees the tears run down Yuchan’s cheeks to wash down the blood and fluids somehow breaks something in his chest, and he starts sobbing, shameless, cries muffled around the gun that’s _still in his mouth_.

Junhee’s free hand comes up, fast enough that Yuchan flinches to prepare for the slap; he opens them when he’s met a pat on the cheek, instead, rough and condescending. A warning, but not a punishment. 

“He’s just a big baby. Cries too much, needs constant attention. If you don’t fill him up, he acts up sometimes,” Junhee explains. “Isn’t that right, Channie? Are you a little hole?”

Yuchan couldn’t bring himself to answer even if he could speak, but it doesn’t matter; Junhee forces him to nod, moving his head up and down with the gun, and laughs. “He’s cute, though.”

“That he is,” Gwangsuk agrees from behind him, “But we’ll have to take our leave. Euijin, come.”

“Aw, not fair,” Euijin whines, but the sigh that blows cool air over Yuchan’s hair is relenting. “We’ll be going, then. Call us soon.”

“We’ll let you know,” is all Byeongkwan says. The ripped jeans disappear from Yuchan’s field of vision, and the footsteps fade away until he hears the door click behind them.

It’s over. 

He did it. 

Junhee crouches until they’re at eye level. This is always the part where they want him to look at them, so Yuchan does, even though keeping his eyes on his knees would be so much easier. The gun leaves his mouth slowly; Junhee examines every twitch on Yuchan’s face as the boy tries his best to keep perfectly still, holds his breath as much as he can while the aftereffects of crying are still shaking his frame. 

Junhee brings the gun up again, looking at the mess of spit and blood Yuchan has made. He winces in disgust, brings it up to Yuchan’s face to wipe the barrel on his cheek, then clicks his tongue and rubs the filth away on Yuchan’s hair, instead. Throughout all of it, Yuchan stays perfectly still, keeps his shoulders straight and eyes up, holds his mouth open so they won’t have anything to scold him for. 

When Byeongkwan walks closer and Junhee moves out of the way, he knows he’s almost free. Byeongkwan kneels in front of him, looking him in the eyes. Yuchan waits, heart pounding in his ears as the elder examines him with a curious tilt of the head. He waits for the gentle scolding or the pat on the head, the hug that will set him free and tell him he’s forgiven. 

Byeongkwan grabs his jaw and spits in his open mouth. 

Yuchan breaks before he realizes what’s really happening; he hears himself wail, loud and broken, a pathetic, high sound, feels his lungs give in and sob freely, lets his full weight go limp. 

Byeongkwan catches him in familiar thin arms. He allows Yuchan to bury his face in the soft fabric of his shirt and bawl. A small part of Yuchan’s brain is aware he’s ruining Byeongkwan’s nice clothes, but now he knows it’s okay, because Byeongkwan is holding him, shushing his sobs with no real pressure behind it, and big hands bury themselves in his hair to pet him, another pair rubbing comforting circles on his back. 

“We warned you, Channie,” Byeongkwan sighs, holding him tighter when Yuchan tries to squirm away so he can apologize. “Ssh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Cry all you need.”

Yuchan does. He cries, hiding away in the safety of Byeongkwan’s chest, until he relaxes under the touches attempting to soothe him and melts into the acceptance. 

Byeongkwan doesn’t let him go, even as his sobs start to quiet down. Yuchan uses the small act of kindness to hide away just for a few more minutes, and they wait for him; when he finally pulls back, Byeongkwan runs a warm hand over his hair, and leaves him to the others, who drag him up from the floor, careful even in the short time it takes them to pull him up and sit him on the edge of the table. 

He's still sobbing, but a little less now. He allows Sehyoon to move him around, Sehyoon who takes the lead and whips our a handkerchief, fingers so gentle compared to the others. He dabs Yuchan’s face clean with small movements. Like this, Yuchan could almost forget he had just been punished; he feels precious, a little doll to take care of, and he keeps still and quiet until Sehyoon is done with him, so he can be a good doll for them. 

It’s Donghun who brings him back to the situation, nudging Sehyoon out of the way and grabbing Yuchan’s now-clean chin with firm fingers. Yuchan meets his eyes, even though it’s hard to keep his gaze on Donghun’s own when Donghun looks at him like he’s a child to be scolded. 

“Did you learn your lesson about misbehaving during meetings, love?” he asks, too gentle for what just happened. Yuchan thinks, for the briefest moment, about how Donghun had given Junhee permission to hold him at gunpoint, how he’d looked at Yuchan with contempt, how he could watch him break without the slightest hint of mercy, how he’s so kind now. 

Donghun is a good actor, but Yuchan is better at his job. It’s the firm love in Donghun’s eyes that breaks him down, much more than the thought of what they all did, bottom lip quivering as he nods. They don’t make him say it out loud, and Yuchan is thankful for that, at least, because he doesn’t trust his voice right now. 

His reward is a quick peck on his forehead; Donghun’s lips are chapped from long negotiations, but Yuchan loves the silent praise. He keens as the hand on his shoulder moves to his waist, the hand on his chin to his shoulder, and Donghun lays him down on the table. 

“Now, if I remember correctly, I did promise next time you misbehaved in a meeting I would take you on this very table.”

“What a man of his word,” Junhee snarks, climbing on the black wood to sit near Yuchan’s head. 

Yuchan thinks he wants to say something, but he doesn’t have time to process his thoughts or remember how to vocalize anything coherent before quick fingers pull his jeans down, Donghun’s other hand holding him down when he squirms in contact with the sudden rush of air. A strangled gasp escapes his throat, but Junhee is quick to shove his fingers in his mouth, prodding at his tongue until Yuchan starts sucking on them as he would on Junhee’s own cock. 

“Sehyoon, come here,” Donghun orders, steppin to the side so the younger man can join them. Yuchan can’t see him like this, but he knows exactly the face Sehyoon is making, pretty brow furrowed in confusion and determination to do whatever he’s told to, and do it well. 

There’s whispers flying around. He can’t concentrate enough to know what they’re saying, because every time he tries, Junhee’s fingers push deeper, so that Yuchan gags around them and loses his focus. Eventually, he just surrenders and waits for whatever they decide to do with him. 

Wet fingers prod at his entrance just as the whispers start fading; Yuchan didn’t hear the sound of anything being uncapped or torn, so he’s fairly sure they’re only using spit, but this is still his punishment, so he can’t complain, and he’s taken much worse. A fist wraps around his dick before he has the chance to adjust, and the table creaks under a new weight. He vaguely recognizes Byeongkwan’s purple shirt entering his field of vision just as from between his legs Donghun murmurs ‘Junhee, stop being gentle on him.’.

Junhee chuckles as he lets go of Yuchan’s head. The younger uses his newfound freedom to twist so he can watch Junhee unbuckle his belt; saliva floods his mouth, almost a conditioned reflex, but before he can do anything else cold hands creep under his sweater, bunching it up under his arms and forcing his attention back to the others. Above him, Byeongkwan smiles and gives a sharp pinch to his nipples. When Yuchan jolts and tries to squirm free, he’s just pinched harder, until he falls still again.

“Good boy,” he hears Sehyoon whisper, just before a kiss is pressed to his inner thigh and the fingers in his ass push deeper without warning. Yuchan doesn’t even try to stop the small sob that escapes his lips, or the way he whines, loud and needy, when they laugh at him again. 

“Crybaby,” Donghun accuses. The hand on his dick speeds up its rhythm. Someone taps his shoulder, and Yuchan looks around, confused, until he finds Junhee looking down at him. 

“Tongue out, Yuchannie,” he orders. Yuchan obeys, mewling a little when Junhee sits his full weight on his face and Byeongkwan wraps his mouth around one of his nipples at the same time. 

The fingers inside him retract, but Yuchan doesn’t even have the time to regret the loss before the head of Sehyoon’s dick is poking at his hole and pushing in. Like this, he’s filled and warm everywhere, completely unable to escape any of their ministrations. He’s a plaything at their mercy, the way they like him the most, and he starts sobbing again before he can stop himself. They could destroy him in the blink of an eye, yet they’re filling him with all the love and care they never owed him in the first place. 

He doesn’t have to do anything but lay down and focus on eating Junhee out, drinking in the sighs of pleasure and accepting whatever they give him in exchange. It hurts, because his lips are still bruised and bloody, but the pain bleeds into everything else, and soon enough his cheeks are covered in tears once again, as they take him apart in the empty conference room. 

“That’s a good boy, Yuchannie,” someone praises, and he could figure out who, but it doesn’t really matter, because everything grows more intense for a minute and the rest of them whisper soft praises of their own, telling him how he’s good, he’s pretty, he’s perfect for them. Yuchan lets himself cry, sobs muffled between Junhee’s cheeks as the leader rides him. Sehyoon is fucking into him with abandon, Donghun stroking faster, Byeongkwan suckling with intent, and he comes undone before he can warn any of them, white-hot pleasure blinding him as he screams. 

“Ssh, it’s okay, babyboy, it’s okay,” Junhee shushes just as Yuchan whines in distress. He climbs off, choking on a barely-contained moan when he looks at Yuchan’s face, quickly thumbing the tears away from his cheek. 

“We really did a number on you, hm?” he muses, shushing him again when he mewls, overwhelmed by everything else that is still going on. None of the others take his orgasm as a sign to stop, doubling their efforts instead and forcing him down when he tries to squirm away. Only when Sehyoon’s hips still and Yuchan feels the familiar warm flood of cum filling him, do Donghun and Byeongkwan take mercy and free him.

He lies, spent, on the table, chest heaving as he catches his breath, as much as he can when he’s still shaking from what feels like hours of crying. They give him as much time as he needs, only offering gentle caresses and praises that melt into him until he takes a deep breath and pushes himself up to sit. 

“Yuchan, baby, can you tell me how you’re feeling with your words?” Junhee asks, hands coming up to give his shoulders a gentle massage from behind. Yuchan frowns, chasing his words somewhere between his chest and his brain, until he can pierce them together and connect them to his throat. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers, wincing at his own voice, hoarse from abuse. “‘M sorry.”

“Sorry for what, pet?” Donghun insists, rubbing his knee to tell him he’s just looking for confirmation, and doesn’t want to torment him further unless Yuchan forces him to. 

“Sorry for being a brat.” Donghun raises his eyebrows in expectation, and Yuchan pouts. He hates saying the rest of it out loud. 

“I’m sorry for trying to tease you in front of the others and for being a brat in a meeting just because I wanted to be punished.”

“And?”

“And I learned my lesson,” he whispers, wide eyes staring into Donghun’s own. “I’ll be good, promise.”

That last part only garners him a little chuckle, which he exchanges with one of his own. They all know it’s a void promise at best, Yuchan most of anyone, but saying it feels nice. It gives everything a feeling of closure, reminds him he’s forgiven.

“Come on, then, brat,” Byeongkwan laughs, patting his hip. “Home we go, you’re grounded.” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m joking. But no meetings for you for a while.”

Yuchan shrugs. Fair. 

“I want cuddles,” he declares. He’s met with long-suffering sighs and incredulous headshakes, but he knows he’ll get what he wants. He’s their baby, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Yuchan, too, has them wrapped around his finger. 

* * *

Despite the fond protests, Yuchan gets the cuddles he demanded. On the way back, as Sehyoon drives, and Donghun sits shotgun, he drapes himself over Junhee and Byeongkwan’s laps in the backseat, despite Junhee’s protests of how illegal not sitting in his own seat is. 

Part of him wants to speak, tell them about random things, call them to no avail just to frustrate them further, share small talk for the sake of conversation, so they can feel normal again and Yuchan can go back to being the brat they love. A much larger part of him pushes him to keep his quiet and bask in the attention. His throat is still constricted from all the crying he subjected it to, and words would still require effort to chase, so he listens to them talk, instead, and only nods or shakes his head when he needs to. 

He refuses to detach himself from them. It’s well within his earned rights, he decides when Junhee huffs, incredulous, at how he refuses to unwrap his arms from his neck even to step out of the car. 

When they finally find a way to step out of the car without breaking contact, awkward though it is, he accidentally catches his own reflection in the mirror. He’s _wrecked._ His mouth is bruised and swollen, his face still coated in sweat and blood despite their efforts to clean him. He hides his face in the nearest warm chest, and Sehyoon is quick to give in to his silent request and carry him home in his arms, sitting with him on the couch until Byeongkwan brings them one of Sehyoon’s sweaters to wrap Yuchan in and Junhee cleans him up properly. 

It’s Sehyoon who tries to kiss him first, and pulls back in surprise when Yuchan whines. He wants the kiss, of course he does, but his lips burn at the slightest contact. He feels tears rush to his eyes before he can stop them, almost ready to start crying again even though he feels completely empty of tears, when Sehyoon leans in again to press a soft, barely-there kiss to his forehead. 

“Whiny baby,” Junhee laughs, dabbing at a last spot of drool on the corner of his mouth before he, too, leans in to peck his cheek. 

They don’t give him any more. Yuchan wants more. He has worked so hard to be good during his punishment, he wants the attention he was promised, wants the affection and praise. He doesn’t want to speak to ask for it, though, so he squirms in Sehyoon’s lap until he can face Donghun, sprawled on the armchair on their right, and pout in his direction. 

Donghun laughs, warm, almost paternal. He shakes his head in disbelief, but still gets up and cradles Yuchan’s face so he can press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Demanding brat,” Byeongkwan huffs. He’s on the couch, too, and the way he twists so that he can face Yuchan entangles all their bodies even further, in a way that can’t be comfortable for anyone. Yuchan just pouts again, because he’s not being a brat, and he’s not being demanding; he wants his cuddles. He’s entitled to them, after everything he went through. 

Byeongkwan doesn’t kiss him. He maintains eye contact, instead, lips curving in a poorly contained smile when Yuchan frowns and tries to purse his lips. He’ll even take a kiss that hurts, if it means Byeongkwan will kiss him. 

Just before he whines again in distress, Byeongkwan chuckles and takes Yuchan’s hands in his, kissing them. 

“Spoiled,” he accuses. Spoiled, Yuchan will take, because if he’s spoiled, it’s only their fault. 

“You need some rest, hm?” Byeongkwan asks. “You can sleep now.” 

Yuchan wants to protest, but he _is_ sleepy, the hours of crying and stress crashing down on him all of a sudden, so he nods obediently and allows Byeongkwan to disentangle himself and leave him curled up on Junhee and Sehyoon’s laps.

Sleep is quick to claim him. He’s tired, of course but he’s safe. Protected. These men, who could destroy him at any given moment, and don’t allow him to forget that, love him enough to let him fall asleep like a kitten in their lap. He’s theirs. When he misbehaves and they have to remind him of his limits, when he’s good and they hold him close, when he’s sad, or happy, or scared, and they hold him like he’s more precious than all of their empire. Wrapped in their clothes and surrounded by them, he can fall asleep with a smile on his lips. 

He’s theirs. 

* * *

Yuchan falls asleep easily, a small blessing Donghun is grateful for. He loves the boy with his whole heart, this little brat that has come to bully his way into their life, but he’s a handful, Donghun is tired, and they still have business to sort. 

The deal isn’t done yet, Junhee reminds them all the moment they realize Yuchan is finally asleep. Donghun takes a moment still to admire the boy’s face on their leader’s thighs, bruised from his punishment and pouting in his sleep, then he nods. 

“Leave it to me,” he decides. “I’ll deal with Oh Gwangsuk and his boytoy.”

“Don’t fuck up,” is Junhee’s only recommendation. Donghun has no intention to, of course, but the implicit reminder of what Junhee could do to him if he fell for a trap is enough to send shivers down his spine.

Once they’ve all left to fix whatever else needs fixing, and Yuchan has been carried to his own room, Donghun loses himself in familiar work, texting runners and comparing numbers. It would be easier if Yuchan had paid any attention instead of fooling around, he briefly thinks with a wince, but they’ve handled themselves just fine without his help for years, and Donghun isn’t too old to handle his own job, not yet at least. 

Time passes by in a blur; his phone tells him he gets to work a few hours, at least, before the sound of the door sliding open brings him back to the apartment. 

Yuchan is standing in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket cocoon and wearing nothing but Sehyoon’s sweater, eyes and lips puffy with sleep. Donghun wants to laugh, but he quickly spots the tears in the younger’s eyes, and beckons him close. 

There’s a whole conversation they could have, yet they don’t need to. Donghun knows Yuchan wants to accuse them of leaving him alone, and he knows that Yuchan knows Donghun just wanted him to rest comfortably. Instead of talking needlessly, Yuchan waddles closer and sits himself on Donghun’s lap.

“Be good,” Donghun sighs, just before Yuchan frowns and starts fumbling with his belt. “Channie, no more today.”

“I’m empty,” Yuchan complains. “I’ll just sit and keep you warm.”

Donghun wants to protest, for no reason other than he just told Yuchan no, and he doesn’t like going back on his own words, but the way Yuchan bats pretty, tear-wet eyelashes at him tugs at his heartstrings. 

“...Just be good, okay?” he sighs, leaning back so Yuchan can finish stroking him until he’s hard enough to comfortably sit on. It’s easy not to get lost in the tight warmth, by now, knowing Yuchan just needs this to feel claimed and useful, so Donghun lets him settle down and only shifts enough so he can still look at his files over the boy’s shoulder. 

He alerts the boys with a quick message, more for the sake of letting them know Yuchan is awake and fine than anything else. He’s barely closed the chatting app when his phone lights up again with reply notifications. 

_DH: I have the baby.  
_ _kbk: so ask for ransom?_  
JUN: questionable work ethic but im in

A soft snore near his ear is enough clue to know Yuchan has drifted off to sleep again; instead of engaging in the banter, he snaps a quick picture to send them, then sets his phone screen-down and forces himself back to his work. 

He already hates the deal, and hates the idea of having to contact them for a second meeting even more, but he can’t bring himself to care. Even in these situations, the boy in his lap is a blessing, something they have, somehow, not tainted yet. Donghun can make himself push through his growing headache just so Yuchan can have something nice, in the future, and smile at them the way he always does when he’s proud of them. 

Some things are worth the danger. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story (or... if not?), please consider taking a moment to leave a kudos or, even better, a comment! You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softshocker) and [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/softshocker) to talk about the boys and/or writing anytime!


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